


looked down one as far as I could

by okaystop



Series: that has made all the difference [5]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Feelings, LA Era (Crooked Media RPF), M/M, The Multiverse is Real, Woke Up Not Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaystop/pseuds/okaystop
Summary: "Tommy, who's the president?"There was only one reason Jon would ask that question.Or, simply: Jon returns to his own universe.
Relationships: Jon Favreau/Tommy Vietor
Series: that has made all the difference [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1297754
Comments: 25
Kudos: 67





	looked down one as far as I could

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this to be my first fic of 2020, and I'm very happy to share it with you all. It's unlikely that I'm completely done exploring this multiverse, however you can consider this the final installment of the core series and its arc.
> 
> As always, please keep it safe and secret. 
> 
> So many thank yous to SelfRescuingPrincess for her incredible beta work and for cheering me on. This part of the whole story is only as good as it is because of her questions, suggestions, edits, and help.
> 
> Title is taken from Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken."
> 
> Part five of "that has made all the difference" series, bringing our story to an end.
> 
> \--

Saturday mornings when Tommy woke up before five it meant that he had a chance to go for a run with the dogs, stop for coffee, shower, and make breakfast all before Jon was even out of bed. When he stayed the night at Jon's house, at least, which was more often than not these days. It felt - _domestic_. Right. Like this could be something they did every day for the rest of their lives.

Tommy usually tried not to think about it like that because it crept into the back of his mind that this Jon wasn't _his_ Jon. That this was likely all temporary. That any day now they would switch back and Tommy would be left teetering on the edge of something without knowing which way he might fall.

That morning, however, he wasn't thinking about anything except the way Jon had looked when he left him in bed that morning, sunlight slanted across his bare chest, sheet bunched up around his hip. He kissed said hip, spread his fingers through Jon's hair, then slid out of bed to get into his usual Saturday morning routine.

By the last step - cooking breakfast - he heard Jon moving around upstairs. He glanced over his shoulder with a wide smile when Jon came down the stairs. "Morning," he said. For a moment, Jon didn't answer. His brow was furrowed, and he looked around like he was trying to place where he was. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at Tommy.

Tension seeped into Tommy's shoulders, along the back of his neck, that he tried to push down. "Jon?"

"Tommy, who's the president?"

There was only one reason Jon would ask that question. 

The spatula slipped out of Tommy's hand and clattered off the edge of the stove before tumbling to the floor. He turned completely around and looked at Jon, stared at him for a moment before saying anything else. "You're - back?"

"I - yeah, I think so, I _thought so_ but - what are you doing here?"

Tommy looked down at the pans sizzling on the stove, at his - Jon's, actually, but he was wearing it - Friend of the Pod t-shirt, before looking back over at Jon standing on the bottom step, brow creased in confusion. 

He knew how it looked, how it was, but how could he just come out and say it: I'm practically living here now; I've been sleeping with your alternate self for six months; I'm so in love with you it hurts; pleasedonttellmeno.

"Uh, breakfast," he says instead. "I'm making bacon and eggs." Tommy's chest tightened, like he might have trouble breathing in a moment.

"Breakfast," Jon repeated, nodding once. "Bacon and eggs."

A bark interrupted them, then another, and then Leo and Lucca raced into the kitchen together, tumbling over one another in an effort to get to Jon first. He smiled and bent down. "Hey Leo, hey Lucca," he said, his attention on the pups now, petting them and letting them take turns licking his face.

Tommy let himself take a minute to really look at Jon, catalogue the details he has been missing for half a year. The salt-and-pepper at his temples, the worry crinkles at the sides of his eyes, the tightness of his shoulders, all these aspects of him that Tommy had grown to love long before he had a chance to really have Jon. "Uh, I made a Dunkin' run, too. They - oh, I guess you might not know this - they opened a new location about a mile and a half west on Melrose." He motioned to the cup waiting for Jon on the counter then bent to pick up the spatula and get back to breakfast-making.

"Thanks," Jon said. He stood up and walked over to the Dunkin cup, the dogs at his heels. "Uh -"

"Sit," Tommy said, needing to delay this conversation for as long as possible. _A few more minutes_, he thought. _Let me pretend for just one more hour before I have to go home, alone, to my cold, empty apartment and leave you behind._ He shoveled the eggs out onto two plates and dished out the bacon. He set one out in front of Jon at the kitchen table then took the seat catty-corner to him.

Jon stared at Tommy, but Tommy ignored him, gesturing to the food, the coffee, before starting to eat himself. "It's going to get cold. Nothing worse than cold eggs."

"Right," Jon said, looking perplexed. He poked at the eggs with his fork and then broke off a piece of bacon to eat. After a minute or two of uncomfortable silence between them, save for the sounds of them both eating, Jon cleared his throat. "So, uh - " he started, setting his fork down. "I guess you and - my other self - hit it off?" 

Jon sounded a little like it was hard to breathe, which was more usually Tommy's thing. Instinctively, Tommy reached out and touched the back of Jon's hand, thumb against his knuckles. He was surprised that Jon didn't pull away. "Yeah," Tommy said. "Look, I don't know what you know and if this isn't - I always knew that eventually you'd swap back. I just - " He moved his hand away, folded it into his lap in an effort to keep his hands to himself. "It's not like I moved in or anything."

"I'm not him," Jon blurted out. He straightened up and wiped his palm across his mouth like he could pull the words back in, but there they were, out there in the open, ringing in Tommy's ears.

Tommy set his fork down slowly, not hungry at all now, his stomach turning over. Of course, he anticipated this. He'd had this conversation with Jon - the other Jon - multiple times. Just because that Jon loved his Tommy, was interested in and attracted to Tommy, even across universes - it didn't mean this Jon - _his_ Jon - was the same. This was the worst case scenario and even though Tommy thought he had prepared for it, the vice grip on his heart and the threat of throwing up his few bites of breakfast said otherwise. "Yes," he said, firmly, in a tone not unlike one he used with reporters, years ago. "I know you're not." He pushed away from the table and stood up. 

"Tommy," Jon said, but Tommy ignored him.

"All right, I just - let me get my stuff, okay? I'll get out of your hair." He didn't have that much stuff at Jon's - actually, he had the top right drawer of Jon's dresser and a small but increasing section of the walk-in closet; he didn't want to think about emptying those right now - but he didn't think it would take long to gather things up. He dumped his half-filled plate in the sink and wiped his hands off on a kitchen towel. He tried not to think about how Jon's house felt so much more like home than his apartment a few blocks away did. 

Jon remained seated at the kitchen table tracking Tommy as he moved around the place, gathered up a book he left out on the coffee table, shoved his running shoes and a jacket into a duffel bag, jogged upstairs to get his toothbrush and shave gel and whatever other toiletries he left in the bathroom. He found his Sleeping Giants shirt in the dirty clothes basket and shoved that into his bag too, but didn't bother sorting through any other clothes. His phone charger and laptop were in the bedroom too, and he didn't want to forget those. When he came back downstairs, he unlooped Lucca's leash from where it was tangled with Leo's on the handle to the laundry room. Jon was still sitting at the table, watching Tommy with wide eyes.

"Lucca, hey girl, hey sweetheart, come here." Tommy patted his thigh until Lucca (and Leo) came trotting over. He tried not to wince as he bent down to fight with her to get the harness and leash on and just gave Leo a scratch behind the ears. "Not this time, buddy," he told him.

He slung his tuffel over a shoulder and his messenger bag over the other. "Uh - so if you find anything else of mine, just toss it in a bag or something," he said quickly, not really looking at Jon at all, more like looking at a spot on the wall behind Jon's head. "Just bring it to the office on Monday. Hey, you should call Lovett. He'll be glad you're back."

Jon hurried to his feet, shaking his head. "But you're not," he said, a strange edge to his tone. "You don't want me here. You want - him back."

Tommy started to shake his head but Jon barrelled on.

"I know I'm not him. I knew that every day I was there. I just thought - when I came back - I didn't think I'd - have to stand here and fucking see how disappointed you are too, just like the other Tommy was."

Tommy's heart beat harder in his chest. He had no idea how to respond to that except that he thought he might start to cry. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep the tears at bay. If he was going to cry, it wasn't going to be in front of Jon. 

"God, this is - bullshit," Jon forced out, bending over, hands on his knees. He shook his head. 

"I'll go," Tommy said quickly, and then he was tripping over his own feet on his way to the door, Lucca yipping and tangling them up too. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he collapsed back against it, sucking in the (not really) fresh air. He counted backwards from fifteen before climbing into his car and driving away.

\--

Tommy was at the dog park with Lucca when Lovett called him. He sat cross-legged on the ground, back against the rough bark of a tree, and answered. "Hey," he said, hoping his voice sounded normal instead of the word getting stuck somewhere at the back of his mouth.

"So Jon's back," Lovett said without preamble.

Tommy's reply was a short, laugh-turned-cough. He leaned his head back against the tree. "Yeah. This morning."

"And you ran away," Lovett continued.

Tommy passed a hand over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I didn't run away," he said, "I left. I went home. He didn't want me there."

"Is that what he said?" Lovett asked. 

"It was implied." Tommy bent his knees up, took a moment to glance around to locate Lucca, who was playing with another doodle across the way. 

Lovett sighed, and Tommy tried not to think about the conversation that he must have already had with Jon. 

"Hey, I knew this was a possibility," Tommy continued on. "Obviously, it's better for everyone involved -" Except, he thought miserably, not really for him in this case. But he had to remind himself that this Jon was his Jon and that Jon was that Jon and they needed to be put right. Even if that meant Tommy was alone; he couldn't willingly deny his alternate self of his husband. "- if they switched back. They needed to swap back, and I knew that if it happened - _when_ it happened - there was a very high probability that my - " he almost said relationship, but was it really one if the other person is an alternative version of your best friend who is married to you in that other universe but isn't married to you in this one? " - playing house with Jon was going to end."

"Playing house," Lovett repeated dryly. "What the fuck, Tommy, is that what you think you were doing?"

He closed his eyes and pressed his fist to his forehead. "I don't know how else to describe it." He couldn't go back to not knowing. He _couldn't_. It wasn't like he could just snap his fingers and forget the last half-year never happened. Now, Tommy would always know what it was like to have Jon, to live with him, to feel him under him, to kiss him, to be loved by him. He may have been "playing house," but the facts of the matter was, his feelings for Jon were real, and they weren't going away anytime soon.

"Well, then I don't know what to tell you," Lovett said. He kept talking but Tommy mostly tuned him out. Lovett wasn't in the same position as he was when it came to Jon. Yes, it had been awkward for a while until they figured out all the universes' differences, but Jon and Lovett’s friendship remained unchanged, solid, even. Not like with Tommy, who had all but moved in with Jon. Who was sleeping with him. Who _loved_ him.

"It's fine," Tommy said, finally, interrupting Lovett. He had no idea what he was interrupting and he was pretty sure Lovett knew that too. "I'll be fine. Jon will be fine. Everything is _fine_."

Lovett actually snorted into the phone but was quiet for a moment. "I'm here for you," he said quietly. "You're one of my best friends, Tommy. Don't shut yourself off and run away from all of this, okay?"

Tommy still had that feeling at the corners of his eyes, like he got before he started crying. He nodded a few times before remembering to speak. "I know. Thank you, Jon," he said. At least he was relatively alone here, just him and Lucca and some other dogs and their owners. If he started crying, which seemed increasingly likely with every passing minute, they would probably leave him alone.

"You're welcome," Lovett said, sincere. He stayed on the phone for a few more minutes until Tommy hung up first. He dropped his phone onto the ground beside him and called Lucca over. She bounded over and licked his face, climbing right up into his lap. Tommy buried his nose in her curls and choked back a sob.

\--

It didn't take Jon all that long to catch up enough to be able to do the pod again. Tommy hadn't thought it would. Despite being away for over six months, he still had the basis for knowing how fucked up everything was here. Thankfully, with the switch in the first place, they had already padded themselves with excuses as to Jon's random absences, which the other Jon had taken any time he wasn't confident enough to talk for an hour.

Tommy kept his distance, Lucca stretched out at his feet, but listened while Lovett briefed Jon, again, one morning in their shared founders' office. "He just finished up a second season of 'The Wilderness.' It's in its final production stages now, so you'll be able to listen through that. We figured that was a good way for him to learn about all the ways we're completely fucked." Lovett bit back a tired laugh. "Anyway, we can get that for you and I'll have Priyanka pull all the important clips from the last seven months or whatever." He paused. "We didn't, like, tell the whole staff or anything, and if any of them noticed something was off, they didn't make a big deal out of it. But a few people know."

Tommy remembered sitting Tanya and Sarah and Priyanka and Elijah down and trying to explain that Jon _was_ Jon but also _ wasn't_ Jon and his head started to ache. He shook his head.

Jon nodded, elbows on his desk. "I was up half the night on twitter, so that was kind of helpful. I, uh, guess I inadvertently managed my resolution to stop getting into twitter fights, huh?"

Tommy cleared his throat. "He didn't want to cause any irreversible damage," he said. He stared at his computer screen as he said it. He had a dozen emails marked for follow-up and some slack notifications, but his hands stayed, tightly-wound, in his lap.

"Yeah," Jon said, his voice strangled. "I did the same for him on the, uh, other side."

It was hard for Tommy to hear about that, hard for him to talk about it, or even just for him to think about. Hard for him, even, to hear Jon's voice, which was why he'd asked that they wait until Jon was fully caught up before getting him back to the pod. It was selfish, yes, but it was bad enough that each day at the office, Tommy could see Jon out of the corner of his eye. Could practically feel Jon's presence, his every breath. He had no idea how he'd lived so long without Jon now that he'd had him and lost him.

His phone buzzed, and he flipped it over to see Dan's face on the screen. He didn't want to answer it, but he knew that if he didn't, Dan would just call again and again until he did. He pressed his thumb over the button and brought the phone up to his ear. "Hey," he said.

"How are you doing?"

Tommy sucked in a breath. "Fine," he said. He didn't want to talk about Jon. "I sent you the outline for today's pod. Did you get it?"

"Yeah, I got it. It looks good. Tommy -"

"Great, then I think we're all set. Jon's going to sit in on the recording. He might have a microphone, but we haven't firmed anything up yet, so I don't know." Tommy squeezed the phone as he spoke.

"Tommy," Dan said, cutting him off. "I know all of this. I'm not calling about work."

He swallowed. "You're not?" 

Dan cleared his throat. "No. Actually, I wanted to see if you're free this weekend. I'm giving a talk at UC Berkeley about the upcoming cycle and they asked that I include foreign policy and, well, you're the expert on that."

Tommy thought that probably Ben was more of an expert on it, but Tommy knew what Dan was doing, and he appreciated it. He rubbed his face and nodded to himself, then clicked through his calendar. Of course he had nothing scheduled on it; until a few weeks ago, his entire life outside of work had revolved around Jon. He couldn't say the same about now. "When's the talk?" he asked.

"Friday night at seven. Thought maybe you could spend the weekend. We'd love to see you."

Tommy's throat hurt. He coughed into his hand. "Yeah, that - thanks, Dan. That sounds great. I'll get my travel arrangements figured out and forward them to you."

The relief could be heard in Dan's out-breath. Tommy wasn't sure if he was more relieved that Tommy was going to come cover foreign policy or that Tommy was willing to take a break from Los Angeles. Either way, Tommy thought, it didn't matter. He needed this. "Good. I'll send you the details of the talk. Can't wait to see you."

"Thanks," Tommy said before hanging up. Yes, he thought. It would be good to get away, out of L.A. Away from Jon. Out of the apartment he didn't even like anymore. He looked over at Lovett and Jon, who were looking at him. "Dan asked if I can help out with a talk he's doing at UC Berkeley," he said. "I'll fly up Friday afternoon and probably stay the weekend, be back on Monday morning."

Jon opened his mouth then closed it again.

Lovett pushed away from Jon's desk and smiled. "Sounds good. I know how much you like San Francisco."

Tommy nodded. "Yeah. I'll probably see a few friends while I'm up there too."

Jon looked down at his computer keyboard without saying anything, and Tommy tried to get back to pod-prep himself. Maybe, one day, coming to the office and sitting catty-corner from Jon won't make Tommy feel like his chest might rip open. Maybe one day he'll move on.

\--

He shouldn't have agreed to the date, Tommy thought as he pulled out his house keys. He shouldn't have let Dan and Howli, while he visited them in San Francisco, convince him to 'get back out there' and download Tinder again. But here he was, two months out from the Jon Favreau switch, and he'd tried to go on a date. He knew he needed to move his focus from what he didn't have anymore to what he could have with someone else, but he wasn't ready. He wasn't _fucking ready_.

He let himself into his dark apartment and Lucca greeted him. 

The date had been fine. Good, even, or it would have been if Tommy wasn't so hung up on his best friend that he was incapable of enjoying himself. The only thing he could think about, even while trying to have a conversation with Dale, was comparing Dale to Jon. Dale was the first man, besides Jon, that Tommy went out with in at least five years, and he came up sorely lacking, though through no fault of his own. He just - wasn't - Jon. 

He knew within the first few minutes of meeting Dale that it wasn't going to work. That he wasn’t going to be able to deal, and that wasn’t fair to Dale. It wasn’t Dale’s fault Tommy was a mess. So he cut it short after drinks and went home and now he crouched down beside his dog, letting her cover his face in kisses. Tommy was still on the floor with Lucca when someone knocked on the door. She barked.

Tommy got up and opened it. Jon, scruffy along his jaw, a panicked look on his face, stood in the hallway, turned as though he was already about to walk away. "Jon?"

He looked at Tommy and scratched the side of his neck. "Hey, sorry. I wasn't sure if you were here. Lovett said you were on a date." Jon looked past Tommy like he expected Tommy's date to be in the apartment too.

"I was, yeah, but I'm not anymore. It's over, I mean. It was just a drink."

"Ah." Jon hovered in the doorway, still half-turned down the hallway.

"Do you want to come in?"

Jon hesitated but then stepped inside past Tommy. He squeezed by, Tommy noticing that he didn't even let their arms brush. "So you had a good date?" he asked, from the middle of the small living area, by the couch. He focused all his attention down on Lucca, whose tail wagged in excitement at seeing Jon.

"Not really," Tommy said, closing the door and turning to face Jon. "He was fine." _He wasn't you._ "I just wasn't feeling it."

Jon's eyes widened. He didn't stand still, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he pressed his fingers against his mouth, looking anywhere but at Tommy. He didn't even look down at Lucca. Tommy swallowed. He might not be able to be with Jon the way he wanted, but he'd also known him for over a decade, and something was wrong. "Is something wrong?" he asked. He stood near the door, crossed his arms over his middle.

Jon chewed on the side of his thumb. "No, no, nothing's wrong," he said, and Tommy knew it was a lie. "Sorry, I mean, yes, okay - Lovett said that he thought I might have made some assumptions about you and - me, well, the other me - when I got back here. He said maybe, no definitely, that I should definitely talk to you about those assumptions, to see if they're wrong. And I've been worrying over it for weeks because I don't want - I don't know if I'm wrong or if I'm going to stand here and have my heart break again. I was going to let it go but then Lovett said you were on a date and I - " He swallowed, shaking his head. "I knew I had to talk to you."

Tommy wanted to say that Lovett talked a lot about things he shouldn't be talking about, but that wasn't fair to their friend. Instead, he nodded, tried not to fixate on Jon's heartbreak comment because what did that even _mean_? "What kind of assumptions?" he asked, his voice level. He didn't want to make any assumptions himself, even though his mind leapt toward them. Maybe Jon _did_ want to be with him.

The pain that spread across Jon's face made his cheek twitch, closed his eyes for a moment. "I assumed that you didn't want me because you wanted him, the other - Jon."

Tommy's heart beat faster, which he didn’t think was possible, and he started to say something - anything - maybe just Jon's name, but Jon held up a hand so he snapped his mouth shut. 

He continued, still not making eye contact. "That's how I felt the entire time I was there. It was so clear, so obvious to me, how he felt. The other Tommy. Every time he looked at me, I knew he wished I was someone else. We tried, for a while, but then he started taking more opportunities to travel for work. Hell, he went to Asia for almost a month and I - I tried, Tom, I really did." He cleared his throat and it sounded like something was stuck in there. "I wanted to be the Jon he needed in his life and I wasn't. I wasn't who he wanted. And then, when I woke up here instead of there and I saw you standing there in my kitchen, how - you looked at me like you _wanted_ me, that you were happy to see me. But then as soon as you realized I wasn't him, it was the same thing all over again. I'm not him," Jon repeated. "I'm not, and I won't ever be." He shook his head. "I'm not him," he said again, like he had to, like they were the only words he knew. He sounded, almost, apologetic. 

Tommy's stomach twisted and he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. He tried to slot his understanding of the other Jon and Tommy and their relationship into what he knew of him and his Jon's relationship here, in this universe. He hated the look on Jon's face, a mixture of fear and despair. "I know you're not him," Tommy said slowly. He was careful with his words, didn't want to send Jon running. "He was a poor substitute for you."

Jon's attention jerked over to Tommy. Finally.

Tommy stepped forward toward Jon, only an arm's reach away now. He rushed on. "The thing is, when he was here he showed me - he showed me what it could be like. How it could have been if we - if _I_ had told you how I felt, how I _feel_, about you. I didn't think - I didn't ever think - that there was a chance that we could be more than best friends. I had a chance to see what - how that could be, this huge what-if that was just sitting there, waiting for the right moment. When you appeared again, after you switched back, I thought - fuck, this is it, it's over, no more playing house, no more - _us_. That’s why I was disappointed. Not because you weren’t him. But because I didn't think there could be an us anymore." Tommy hadn't realized he'd begun to step forward to Jon until he could reach out and touch him, just his fingertips against the side of his arms. "Are you saying that you - that there could be an us?"

Jon nodded, jerkily. "Yes," he almost sobbed out. "If -"

Tommy's hands reached Jon's, twisted their fingers together. "He wasn't you," Tommy said, swallowing. The corners of his eyes stung. "He wasn't you and I knew that every day, too. Because you're the Jon Favreau I've been in love with for a decade. You're who I founded two companies with, who I followed across the country, who I made up excuses to see outside of the office because even though we saw each other every single day at work, it wasn't enough. It isn't enough. He was great - he showed me what we could have, together - but he wasn’t you."

Jon nodded again.

Then, before either of them could say anything else or make any other excuse or any other argument, Jon's mouth was on Tommy's, squeezing his hands smashed up in between them. The kiss was wet, Tommy realized, because they were both crying. He tugged his hands away from Jon's, ignoring his throaty protest, and cupped the sides of his neck, holding him steady. This let him step in even closer, as close as he could get without, like, climbing him. Jon moaned and curled his fingers into Tommy's hair, tugged gently. He opened his mouth for Jon, his knees going weak at the touch and taste of him. 

Tommy didn't want his brain to fall into its usual trap of analyzing every moment, not while he was kissing Jon. Sharing their _first kiss_, he reminded himself. And yet, he couldn't shut his thoughts off. He didn't know why he thought kissing Jon would feel familiar. Maybe just because he'd spent the last six months kissing Jon, but not this Jon. No, kissing this Jon - _his Jon_ \- was different, was everything. Tommy felt it all the way down to his toes, felt the rush of blood from his head to his heart, to his dick. He felt tingly, goosebumps prickling his skin. He felt light-headed. Like he couldn't breathe. Like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.

Jon pulled back first, Tommy leaning into him trying to keep the kiss going. "Fuck," he breathed. Tommy nodded and opened his mouth against Jon's jaw. He needed to taste him all over. His hands moved down Jon's shoulders, around to his back, pressing in against Jon until there wasn't any space left between them. They both shivered. "Tommy," Jon said, as Tommy's teeth grazed his chin, down his throat. More urgently: "Tom - Tommy -!"

He stepped back, not enough to break contact but enough that he could look at Jon. He felt dazed, unbalanced, but all in a very, very good way, feeling dazed. Tommy could barely focus on Jon in front of him. He couldn't stop touching him, his thumbs pushing into the sides of Jon's spine and lower. "Yeah?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he said after a long moment of heavy breathing, as he tipped his forehead against Tommy's. "I'm not."

"Neither am I," Tommy whispered. "I want to be wherever you are." Jon kissed him again, and Tommy held on like he never wanted to let go.

\--

Only a few months later, probably too early for most couples to consider the possibility, Tommy's lease was up and he found himself moving everything five minutes from the apartment to the house Jon rented in West Hollywood. They dropped the dogs - all three of them - off with Andy and Molly so they wouldn't get underfoot.

"That's the last of the boxes," Lovett announced from his perch on the couch where he had been directing Jon and Tommy and the movers all morning. Tommy didn't have that much; he sold or donated the majority of his furniture because Jon's house was already fully furnished. "Do you want help unpacking, do you want me to postmates lunch, or do you want me to get out of here because you're both looking at each other in a way that's, frankly, making me uncomfortable?" 

Tommy laughed. He stepped behind Jon, his palm unconsciously sliding easily against his warm back. "Jon and I are perfectly capable of keeping our hands to ourselves, Lovett." 

Lovett snorted. "Barely. You two don't even realize you're doing it sometimes." 

Tommy let his hand fall away from Jon's back, but Lovett was smiling. "I like it," he said with a shrug, his face flushed. "I know I've been a little weird about all this, the whole time, but the truth is, I'm really fucking happy for you two. Now that I see it, it's so obvious." He scratched at his cheek. "Shut up. I'm leaving. You two can christen in the couch or your marriage bed or whatever. Just don't tell me because I'll never be able to sit anywhere when I come here again."

"Why would you sit on our bed anyway?" Tommy asked at the same time Jon blurted out, "We're not even engaged yet!"

Tommy glanced at Jon, noting the word 'yet' - they hadn't talked about _marriage_ outside of what they both knew of the other universe, but the truth was, Tommy was certain he wanted to marry Jon and he would do it, like, tomorrow, if Jon wanted to, and Tommy hadn't really thought Jon wanted to at all, not that they’d really talked about it - then turned his attention back to Lovett. "We're not going to have sex right now, Lovett," he said, his voice sounding oddly strangled, caught in his throat. "So if you want to order in, we can all enjoy lunch together."

Beside him, Jon made a sound, but Tommy didn't look at him. Lovett did, though, eyes narrowed. He could practically see Lovett thinking and then, after a moment, he said, "No, I think it's probably better for all of us if I take my leave. I'm glad to be of service, boys," he continued. "Mazel Tov on your new home together, etc. etc." He gathered up his things and headed for the door. "See you at the office." And then, before Tommy or Jon could argue, Lovett was gone.

Jon slipped his hand into Tommy's. "Hey," he said. He pressed his mouth against the back of Tommy's shoulder. "That was one way of getting rid of him."

Tommy laughed. "Was that what we were trying to do?" 

"We weren't _not_ trying to do it."

Tommy turned and drew Jon in close for a kiss. He slid his hands up against the sides of Jon's long neck, his thumb whispering over his Adam's apple. His kissed him slowly, like they had all the time in the world, which maybe they did, now. Jon's arms encircled Tommy's waist, his fingers curling against Jon's back. Tommy shivered. He could barely believe he was going to have this every day, he thought, every morning, afternoon, evening, night - Jon in his arms, in the office, in his bed.

"I know we just said we weren't going to, you know," Jon said, breaking the kiss but only enough to speak, "but do you wanna?"

Tommy blinked, tried to get his bearings. Kissing Jon like this always took his breath away,made him unsteady on his feet. "Do I wanna what?" he asked.

Jon turned red, and his hand dipped down to squeeze Tommy's ass. "Fool around," he said, eyes dark but hopeful. He looked his lips and cleared his throat. "Have sex. You could - you could fuck me."

He couldn't do anything but kiss Jon again, groaning. Tommy nodded, got his hands between them so he could shove a hand up the front of Jon's henley, touch the bare skin at his stomach. "Yeah," he said in a breath. "Yeah, shit - anything you want, Jon. What do you want?" 

Jon wrapped his long fingers around Tommy's wrist, stilling his hand as it found its way up Jon's chest. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it's all I've been thinking about lately. I want you, Tom. I want to feel you inside me." They kissed again, a little more desperately, and Tommy wasn't sure he was going to be able to make his legs work, let alone climb the stars to Jon’s - shit, their - bedroom. He thought maybe they could just fuck right here, in the middle of the living room. The house had blinds, after all. But Jon tore his mouth to say, "Let's go - how did Lovett put it? - and christen our marriage bed." They had, in fact, bought a new bed when they decided to move in together. They were not, however, married. 

"We're not married," Tommy whispered against his cheek. His heart raced. He could bring it up now, he realized. He could even - _fuck_ \- propose to Jon. It was their obvious next step, even if it was rushing into something. He'd known Jon for over a decade now, loved him for just as long, and he knew they worked, knew they could work. He could do it, right now -

But he hesitated too long because there was Jon, lowering himself to one knee without letting go of Tommy's hands. "We can be," Jon said quietly. He looked up at Tommy, eyes wet. He held on to Tommy's hands tightly, knuckles white. "I want to be."

Tommy almost shook his head, but he worried that Jon might misinterpret that. "Jon -"

Jon smiled, wobbly. "I love you. I've loved you for a decade, and it took me until I got lost in another universe to realize that I was _in_ love with you too, but I got there. I'm really fucking glad I got there. I want to put a ring on your finger, Tom," he said, voice shaking. "I want to call you my husband. I want to know that fifty years from now, God-willing, we're still together, still getting into political fights on Twitter, maybe even still recording pods. But mostly, I know that I want _you_. So, what do you think? Will you marry me?"

The 'yes' caught in Tommy's throat. Instead, he nodded, then choked on laughter. "Fuck. Jon. I can't believe - _yes_. God, yes. In any and every universe. A fucking million times: _yes_."

Jon's entire being brightened, and he tugged one of his hands out of Tommy's and reached over to the couch. "Good," he was saying, but Tommy could barely hear him as he watched Jon pull a black ring box out from underneath the couch cushion. "Good, I - I - fuck, okay, I said everything I wanted to say so now just -" 

Tommy's vision got blurry and he pawed furiously at his face, trying to keep from crying. "I never thought this would make me so fucking emotional," he said. When he imagined it, he was the one on his knee asking Jon. This was a wonderful surprise. He rubbed the heel of his hand to his cheekbone and then dropped to his knees on the floor with Jon.

Jon popped open the box to reveal two simple, platinum rings. He took one of them and, with a shaky hand, pushed it onto Tommy's finger. "Do you like it?" he asked. "Are they okay?"

"They're perfect, Jon," Tommy said. He looked down at his left hand, twisted the ring a little, then reached for the other one. "My turn," he said. He'd barely finished sliding Jon's ring onto his finger and Jon was already kissing him, leaning in so hard that Tommy lost his balance and inelegantly toppled over sideways. Jon laughed against his mouth as he landed on top of him.

Tommy cupped Jon's cheek, gaze flicking to the ring he'd put there. "We're not going to make it to the bed, are we?"

"Not a chance," Jon said, rolling his hips against Tommy's and kissing him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love kudos or, if there's something in particular you really love, a comment.


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